


Different Lights, Different Lives

by bewareofbabyjakey



Series: Weekly Drabbles [2]
Category: The Creatures (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Feel free to request, More Ships to come, Multi, vague pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewareofbabyjakey/pseuds/bewareofbabyjakey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single word can hold a thousand stories; an infinity set off by connections and expressions, with a variety of perspectives.</p><p>All it takes is one to show a plethora.</p><p> </p><p>[ Short Drabble Series: Creature Edition. Anything longer than 1 page will be separated and joined into a series. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. { Pain }

**Author's Note:**

> Week #1: Pain

James likes to think he can handle pain well.

He can handle the throbs of fire in the lower section of his spine when he carries and tosses Aron around, as if the small man were a petulant toddler. He can jump back up after taking a couple of hits to the back when they go out paintballing with frozen ammo. Hell, he was pretty fine after almost skinning his torso off when he did his hoverboard ninja stunt with Jordan.

If James were more salacious, he could even say he enjoyed a little pain, especially when it came to the game of lust. Red colorations dented with sharp teeth patterned his neck and shoulders, and were a pleasing reward he didn’t care enough to hide. The nail imprinted marks clawing down his back and sides was just nobody’s business. As for hair pulling, well. The issue lies like this-

 

James is currently lying stomach first on the steam room couch, wincing as each cornrow was undone and tugged out into cotton balls. The headache that stemmed from their existence seemed multiply with every harsh tug to break the rubber bands, and then nullified by the gentle hand that massaged his scalp. After a while he didn’t feel anymore tears in his hair; just the soft, circling fingertips soothing his skin.

A chuckle broke him from the sleepy reverie that he found himself falling in.

“You look like an angry puffball,” Jordan laughs as he pets the fluffy strands, his fingers woving through and untangling them from remaining mini braids.

“I’m not a fucking living ballsack from club penguin.” James’ reply is more of an unintelligible mumble as he says it into the throw pillow. The boisterous laughter in return has him raising a lazy gesture known as the middle finger.

Jordan, being the nice guy he is, simply tugs the sticking ends.

 

The next yell is filled with swears, and Jordan just giggles madly to himself as he throws himself on top of James.

Cue more swearing, added with a dab of discomforting aches.

But then Jordan is kissing the back of James’ shoulder blade and wrapping his arms around his soft sides and James just melts under him, even as he still grumbles insults into the next kiss, the kind that makes his lips swell pink.

 

He can handle the pain.


	2. { Goodbye }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there's no need to speak. It's better that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week #2: Goodbye  
> Pairing: Vague

The clock is ticking. It ticks and tocks and ticks and tocks, and he really wishes the grandfather clock would break already.

He looks down at his phone. The dark screen lights up to display the time, the bolded number signifying how far the moon has traveled, and at what appearance did it take on for the world to see in its celestial glow.

He looks up towards the bed. The beams that sneak past the slits of burgundy curtains become wide in its descent upon the pale figure on the bed, a figure who curls up by himself in a ball of warmth under the comfort of a fleece blanket. This figure is someone who usually stands tall and proud with a laidback exterior; a rather cocky and sarcastic smirk turns the corners of his lips when the camera is blinking red, which soon changes into an amused yet annoyed look of acceptance when it’s done, and the person taping his reactions is enjoying his expressions very much.

Just remembering the huffy sighs and half-assed glares brings a smile to the man’s face. Then the phone vibrates.

An unknown number lights up the screen and brings shadows along the man’s face, almost emphasizing the deep frown weighing upon him. He doesn’t bother reading them anymore. Not since two weeks ago when he first read them.

There’s a note in his hand, wrinkled and smeared. If any outsider were to see the paper itself, they would see the worn wrinkles that come from the constant crumple of the writer’s sweaty palms, as if he could not stop rereading his mind and then folding it back into its square. If anyone were see the outline from afar, they would notice how the sentences began to scrawl away from the lines, as if the writer had a hard time putting his thoughts together.

If any person, whether it was a stranger or the intended receiver, were to read the letter, maybe they could feel the heartbreak in the runny ink, the betrayal and love twisting in long words that come from growing resentment and a suppressed guilty conscious. But, where does it come from? Who bore the most guilt in the writer’s thoughts?

The man who slept soundly in his hidden infidelity, or the other who felt that it was his fault that he wasn’t good enough to love?

If the intended reader were to see the clutched letter, maybe then would he feel something for the man and understand. Maybe he would ask for bittersweet forgiveness to comfort the guilt that must have lingered in the back of his head when he leaves during the night. Maybe he would delete and block the mysterious number in his phone, and crawl back into their couch where they once held each other’s body in an embrace, the kind that warmed the mind and heart.

There were so many maybes, so many possibilities that could from this confession and confrontation.

So, instead, the writer tears the letter into the pieces and throws it into the trash.

He was tired. So very, very _tired._

__

He stands up with heavy shoulders and infinite saddened sighs. His eyes lingered on the side of the bed where the person he loved dearly slumbered and dreamed. Wonderment of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ tossed around in his lonely thoughts, and that is when he decided it was best to leave without a spoken word.

Without a sound is the ideal plan, but not without the last touch of affection. He could not resist as his lips pressed against the dreamer’s forehead; he could not resist gently slipping his fingers through the soft, messy hair one last time.

Then he’s out the door with a soft click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is meant to be vague, although Jordan, Aleks, and James were in mind while writing this.


	3. { Sugared }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chip and Marshall never really had it good. But that really depends on how you define it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week #4  
> Characters: The Bowdrie family
> 
> Warnings: Alcoholism, implications of prostitution.

 

Chip and Marshall never really had it good. But that really depends on how you define it.

Dad’s a drunk, a mean one at that, and mom was probably wandering around the neighborhood looking for someone to make her feel young again. She’d probably sleep in some other man’s bed while dad is lying passed out next to the couch. It was, overall, very sad and pretty pathetic.

Chip and Marshall have gone through many hard times in their life, and their luck makes it seem like it never ends. But if it’s taught them something, it’s that they should cherish all the good things they can get. At least, that’s what Tammy reminds them to do when she sneaks them sweets behind dad’s back.

Tammy’s a good example of things to cherish. Tammy was four years old when Marshall was born, and she already taking on the responsibility of making sure he was fed and bathed every day. Then Chip was born three years later and by then she was practically a natural at childcare. To her, it might have began as pretend, but it kept them alive a while. To them, Tammy was mom.

Their birth mom was busy looking for a sugar daddy to care of her while Tammy was feeding them Sugar Daddies cause the fridge was empty sometimes, and they couldn’t be anymore grateful. She always made sure they had something, even if it was something small as a bottle of water and a handful of candy she took from the school’s front desk.

Of course, more hardships come falling on their roof. Mom runs off with a store manager and dad is completely off his rockers, and Tammy isn’t sure she can stay in school anymore when she has two preteen boys at home. Guess it’s time to follow in mom’s footsteps.

It’s not like the boys will notice or say anything. So what did it matter that when Tammy started to wear a lot of makeup? What did it matter that her eyeshadow was too blue, lipstick bright red, and she started to resemble those those weird dolls in dad’s closet. What did it matter when she wore scary looking heels and adorn funky, ripped dresses when she left the house? She was old enough to do what she wanted. It’s not like dad was going to complain when she always remembers to leave a bottle of Jack in the fridge.

Sacrifices are made, small sacrifices that Tammy had no care for whatsoever, and even benefited from greatly. With the money she earns, their fridge fills up with takeout and other random food cans, and her boys grow properly as they can in their situation. Marshall becomes quite the tall fellow with a moody scowl carved in and Chip gets rounder with cute chubby smiles painted on his face like the sun drawings pinned to the wall, and she couldn’t be anymore happy than she is now.

The only downside to come is when dad kicks her boys out because they need to contribute. Be more like Tammy, he slurs out. At least she can lift some of the weight. Jokes on him. They always find their way back and Tammy is always ready to let them in with open arms. Marshall can play grumpy all he wants, but he loves her hug and so does Chip, especially when she holds one of those giant lollipops from the discount store.

Years pass in this fashion and not much really change. Chip and Marshall leave more often to find adventures as adulthood weighs heavily on them, and it’s alright. Sure, there’s the occasional gunshot wound and questionable work attire, but it’s all normal in the Bowdrie household. Sure, it’s pretty disappointing that Marshall took after dad’s drinking habits and that Chip keeps getting dehydrated easily, but it’s just one sour piece in a bowl of sugar. With dad out of the house, she can use her time to work the corners freely while looking for her own man and her brothers can work and rest all they wish to.

  
Difficult times still linger in their life. But if they didn’t have it, they wouldn’t know when to cherish the good.


	4. { Creamy }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always room for surprises.
> 
> [Based off Sweet Critters AU]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week #5  
> Pairing: Jeamus
> 
> Warnings: Slight NSFW

Seamus blinks, wiping away the sticky fluids off this face with a single finger. He sticks it in his mouth and gives a loud suck, slurping noise included much to James’ chagrin. The blond continues to suck on it while making direct eye contact with the tri-colored man, causing the blush on his face to redden further.

 

“...So when you said you were going to give me a creamy surprise-”

 

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence, I swear to god Seamus O’Doherty,” James growled, zipping up his pants. It didn’t help that the elder was smirking, who then leaned forward to wipe a stray stain off his pants. With his tongue. “Seamus!”

 

“What? I’m just helping you out,” Seamus mumbles into the seam. It certainly didn’t help that the white cream covering his face was dripping off his cheeks and running down James’ dark pants. It would be easily cleaned anyway, so why not let him have his fun? “If anything, I should be the one angry. It doesn’t hurt to warn a guy when you’re spurting him with literal ice cream.”

 

James looked off to the side, mumbling under his breath. The red tips of his ears showed just how mortified he was at the whole thing. “I just… look, it doesn’t happen all the time. Just a few occasions. And I didn’t think it was going to happen with you.”

 

“So it never crossed your mind that your cum would look like and taste like ice cream? I mean, I don’t cum lemon juices so this was really a big surprise.” Seamus just shrugs at him. “Not a bad surprise. If anything, it really works for the both of us in the end.”

 

James glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He pursed his lips, but there was no denying the curious interest resting in his eyes and brows. “What do you mean?”

 

Seamus raised a brow at him, then shifted his position. The kneeling position he held became more loose and rather seductive - his knees spread apart as he rested on his palms, head tilted back to reveal the open, vulnerable neck that had James’ mouth salivating in the need to litter it up with red and purple bruises. A pink tongue slips out between cherry colored lips, tasting all remnants of his ‘sweet treat’.

“It means that I wouldn’t mind having you for dessert every night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not feel comfortable posting this on tumblr SO I hope you enjoy this segment.


	5. { Hold }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallmark moments are things Seamus has mixed feelings over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week #7
> 
> Pairing: Jeamus

 

Cuddling is universally one of the most cliche’d things to do during the winter season, and Seamus is usually the type who tends to avoid falling for those hallmark moments.

 

But goddamn it, cuddling is also one of the most useful and efficient methods to stave off the cold. 

 

Not to mention, there were plenty of extra perks when it came to cuddling with a boyfriend. Speaking of boyfriend, it sounds like he’s trying to say something and Seamus should tune back instead of trying to drown himself in fleece and fluff.

 

“You plan on falling asleep on me, Sea?” James’ amused words were mumbled right into the crook of his neck, his hot breath bringing goosebumps along the other side of bared skin. The warm chuckles that came after was enough to prod Seamus into opening his eyes, turning his head upwards to peer up at sparkling dark eyes. How gay was that.

 

The older male simply replied to the humorous grin with a bland smile, shrugging his shoulders. “Why not? It’s not like I don’t have two series that need to be edited for the whole month. I’m totally not worrying about how my computer is going to fuck up the upload schedule.” There might have been worry tinged in his tone, but the light in his eyes seems to tell otherwise. Yes, he was blatantly procrastinating.

 

And James did not seem to mind at all. He may raise a brow and tsk away, but the firm squeeze of his arms around Seamus’ middle, a quick grope inciting a muffled giggle, and the chapped lips trailing behind his neck showed how he absolutely did not mind using the opportunity to spoil the smaller man in physical affections.

 

Sure, Seamus could have used the time to do many, many important things involving the newest game or fixing his breaking computer. But, it was certainly no loss to be held in a loving embrace on the couch. There was nothing wrong with lying comfortably on top of a heated body while firm arms surrounded him, James’ wild curls tickling his nape ever so often as they watched the cheesy holiday specials. And if they were holding hands while doing it, well shit.

 

So yeah, throw in the Christmas trees, throw in the LED lights and glass decorations; throw in the hideous sweaters with terrifying faces and the ripped wrapping paper littering the damn floor like savages.

 

It’s a goddamn hallmark moment that belongs in stupid Christmas cards, but it’s  _ his  _ hallmark moment. He’d trade all of his pride and time if it meant being holding onto the warm heart that beats against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Present to the dead ship.


	6. {Golden}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end came and left, but he never did. And that was enough.

It's a quiet world, a quiet town.

It's a quiet town, a quiet street.

Where life used to rumble and roar, where tire screeching accompanied the scattered voices that rose above many things, it was nothing more than a thick gate of silence. Not even the winds could penetrate the invisible bubble that seemed to push out all sources of life.

Eddie hated it.

This silence, this deafening silence, had driven him mad from under the rubbles to the top of the buildings. No matter how much he screamed, how hard he yelled till his throat was raw and hoarse from desperation, there was nothing. Not a peep, not a cough; not even the smallest echo to reflect how truly deserted this place was. Crawling out of what remained of the office was almost regretful if it meant walking out in this ghost town alone.

But he wasn't alone. He had Seamus.

It was almost comedic to figure the only thing that saved the two of them were the giant bears and a metal beam. A tackle onto the thick plush saved them from a terrible fall and a ceiling rack was there to catch the debris. They survived because of one small action, one act of rough play. It was so funny that he kneeled over and laughed, laughed until tears trickled from his bloodshot eyes and pain throbbed in his abdomen.

It was tolerable enough for Eddie. As long as he wasn't alone, it was bearable. Even though everyone else in the building died from the explosion, he had Seamus.

Time seemed to be frozen, the whole state at a standstill as they limped along this once lively town. It was not a conscious act when their hands intertwined together as the Littleton sign became a looming figure, but it was a choice to squeeze tighter when that too became a faded memory.

It was a lonely time, a depressing time of hopelessness and every angsty thought that Eddie could have in this situation… but he had Seamus.

Debris crumbled under their feet and collapsing roofs loomed over their heads, all while the sun continued to burn the world little by little. The heat waves became more of the everyday weather, a scorch that left physical marks on the concrete they walk on. Night was no different than day, and the heat continued to suffocate.

But Eddie didn’t care. He would still hold on to Seamus, hold him close to his chest and bury his face into his knotted hair as they slept under a roof, and whisper an old lullaby his mother would sing to when he was too bothered to rest. He’s all he has left.

Please don’t be mistaken to think that he only loved Seamus because of the situation, because they are the only two survivors so far. After all that has happened, even before the sun’s impending destruction, Eddie has always loved this man; his golden boy that has enraptured him so beautifully with not an exploding star, but with the caress of a candle light.

In the end though, all lights eventually flicker out.

And this is why Eddie is remembering and reliving. This is why he’s closing his eyes and remembering why he’s here, standing in the middle of what used to his home with the boy he loves more than his life.

The concrete is melting as every surrounding thing is surely catching fire by the sun’s overbearing heat, and Eddie is looking at Seamus, who is watching everything burn. And he’s smiling. And Eddie’s smiling and giggling and pulling him into a kiss that burns more than the molten liquid seeping into their shoes. They’re swaying side to side as the Earth is falling apart and a star is dying, and all Eddie could think at this moment is how stunning Seamus looks under the rays of light cascading and burning their world.

If this is the last thing he sees, then it’s worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for this trash.


	7. { Teacher }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teacher/Single Parent AU

School events were never Seamus’ thing. He wasn’t really fond of meeting new people, but James had gotten sick the night before and they needed another teacher to fill as a volunteer for the stupid event. Seriously, a Spring carnival? Whatever happened to good ole Halloween booths?

So it’s an hour past the initial ending time and Seamus was wandering down the hallway with whip cream in his hair. James had signed up to get pie’d in the face by the rambunctious brats who wanted revenge on the angry man, which Seamus had to deal with as a substitute, and boy, did he certainly get several in the face. ”Stupid, knuckled-headed little shi-“

“Look daddy! It’s the man with the Rapunzel hair!” A little girl’s voice shouted from the distance. Oh hell no. Seamus turned around, ready to ‘politely’ tell this child off because you don’t just refer to a grown man’s hair as a Disney princess and- _Damn_. The father following behind was dressed nicely with his rolled up button up and vest combination. Even had really nice smile to match those twinkling, amused eyes.

“You’re right, Carla. He does have Rapunzel hair.” Okay, no. Don’t think you can be attractive and get away with making fun of him. But the smile on his face looked too genuine to be making fun of him. Still, Seamus scowled at him.

The little girl, quite similar looking to one of the boys who threw a pie at his face, ran up and hugged his legs. Before he could say anything else, she let out a high pitched giggle as her tiny arms tried to wrap themselves completely around his legs. Alright, that was cute, making his scowl soften to a bland frown. Sigh.

“Sorry kiddo, but I’m no princess. If you want to find one, look down the hallway for a girl named Ali. She’s got really, really pretty blonde hair. More pretty than mine,” Seamus finishes off lamely, awkwardly patting her head. He wasn’t quite sure how to react with little kids. Considering his job position dealt with teenagers, it can be a big difference.

Carla simply pouted at him, looking up to him with big, brown eyes. “But you have prettier eyes than she does. Right, daddy?”

Oh no. Seamus glanced up to the grinning man, receiving a giggle in return. Oh so that’s where she got that laugh from.

“He does have pretty eyes, hon. And a rather pretty face if I say so myself,” he says unabashedly, throwing a wink at him. Seamus could barely respond back as the child skipped back to her dad with another giggle. Did he just call him attractive? And that smile was starting to look more friendly than a parent should ever give a teacher. “Will we be seeing you around, Mr. O’Doherty?” Even knew his name. Then again, that might have been the name tag he had to wear, but that's beside the point.

“Possibly. As long as your kid doesn’t try to braid my hair, Mr…?”

“Edwin Cardona. But you can call me Eddie.”

Eddie Cardona. He’s sure not gonna forget that anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rather old, and I apologize because I am now trying to archive my old fics onto here.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to organize my writing into here as well.


End file.
